Commander Metrios still radiated a certain amount of skepticism as he led Rojer to the bridge station where a couch had been placed for his use during gestalt. With the ship in flight, the generators were humming nicely. It took Rojer only a moment to lift them to the requisite power to ’port the three probes: a second each to lob it on the parabolic course about its target planet.
The outer planet was predictably a small cold hunk with a heavy core, then came a larger but equally sterile one, and the third was no more interesting though it had several moons. On his second foray, Rojer sent the first probe around the gas giant. It was not a ringed planet but it had twenty moons and lots of debris, which interchanged when two or more moons were close enough to affect gravitational pulls. Rather a show for the astrogation officer, a very pretty woman named Langio, who was enchanted by the lunar dance. The fifth in was the largest, with awesome surface activity and again possessing a herd of moons: some of which had man-made ruins. Rojer was asked to take that probe in for closer examination. That suggested that the moon had been mined at one time.
The sixth planet displayed more extensive ruins, enough to suggest that it had once been habitable before its atmosphere had drained off and it had lost the necessary warmth from its cooling primary.
Captain Osullivan called a halt to Rojer’s day then and told him to get some rest. Rojer was only too happy to comply. He was exceedingly tired and wished he hadn’t been such a show-off. Prtglm’s doubt had incensed him. He might still be considered a youngling by his own kind as well as ’Dinis but he was “a useful kid” and he wanted to prove he was.
* * *
When he reported to the Bridge the next day, all three captains were present again and their manner suggested they’d new plans for him.
“Mr. Lyon, we’d like you to send one probe to the Hive ship. We’ve been lucky that the outer planets do not have warning mechanisms on them but, if the seventh planet is Hive settled, Prtglm is confident that it will have monitors in space. Today let’s scan the Hive ship.”
Rojer was quite willing to limit himself to the one “seeing” rock.
“Now,” said Lt. Commander Langio in her quiet voice, “we know the Hiver’s present position, just past the eighth planet, but we don’t dare risk extending our sensors that far to get you good definition.”
“I don’t need it, Commander,” Rojer said easily. “Hive ships are always the same shape . . .”
“Not always same size,” Captain Prtglm added.
“True, but as there isn’t but one out there, that isn’t a consideration.” Rojer nodded to Commander Metrios who ceded control of the generators to Rojer so he could achieve the necessary gestalt. He’d seen where Langio had sited the Hive ship on the astrogation chart: he picked up the lumpy probe and ’ported it in a wide parabolic curve toward the Hiver.
The comm officer gave a grunt of surprise. “Getting readings,” Doplas said. “Can you hold it still a minute?”
Rojer obliged and then followed his directions so that, by the time he retrieved it, the probe had done several circumnavigations around the Hive ship without, apparently, alerting the ship to the probe’s presence.
Rojer wasn’t nearly as tired as he’d been yesterday but that brief hour’s work now occupied every area of the Genesee and every specialist on all three ships of Squadron B. He was relegated to the sidelines which he tried to take philosophically. That lasted until dinner time when he was politely, if absently, asked to eat in the main mess hall. He didn’t mind that because Gil and Kat kept him company. The food was nearly as good as he’d gotten at the captain’s table and there was not nearly so much formality. And a lot of the crew tried out their ’Dini on his pair . . . with often amusing results. Gil was particularly good with pronunciation problems but the methods by which it taught caused great hilarity and provided an interesting evening’s entertainment for everyone. He was proud of his ’Dinis and told them so.
He was roused from a sound sleep by an irritating noise and finally realized that his communit was squawking for attention.
“Hmmm? Yes, whacha wan’?”
“Captain’s compliments, Mr. Lyon, and can you come to the ready room immediately?”
Grumpily, Rojer obeyed but he didn’t wake Gil and Kat. They were dead to the world. Someone should get a full night’s rest. Although he was in officer territory, it was still a hike to the ready room. If he’d been wider awake, he’d’ve ’ported but a Talent never did that without full control of his faculties.
“Ah, there you are, Mr. Lyon,” the captain said when he arrived but there were scowls, an irritated tlock and snubbing switch of the upper torso by one of the younger ’Dini on Captain Prtglm’s staff, as if he’d deliberately delayed his appearance. That they’d been up all night was obvious by the smell in the room, and the numbers of discarded mugs, half full of cold liquid, which orderlies were clearing away as well as serving fresh drinks to both Human and ’Dini. “I’m happy to say that your efforts bore extremely ripe fruit. There you are!”
On the big tactical screen Rojer sleepily noticed a Hive ship. Only something about it wasn’t quite right: it had colored marks all over it, different colored marks that hadn’t been on the original scans.
“I’m not sure what I should be looking for, Captain,” Rojer said, too sleepy still to pretend to understand.
“You’re looking at an unarmed Hiver, is what you’re looking at, lad,” Commander Metrios said, smiling with tired triumph. “She’s a new ship: not so much as a scratch on her hull. She’s not on search or armed to invade. That’s a colony world and she doesn’t expect us. And it doesn’t know we’re on its doorstep.”
“Yes, sir,” Rojer willingly agreed, hoping that was all that was required of him.
“This time a Hiver will not escape,” Captain Prtglm said, and his body mirrored satisfaction and triumph.
“If she doesn’t have weapons, she can’t defend herself,” Rojer said blankly.
His comment caused all conversation in the big room to cease and he became the unhappy focus of every eye, especially big poll eyes.
“Where’s the glory in attacking an unarmed ship?” he asked, looking directly at Captain Prtglm. The silence continued, but it had a different quality: a quality that made Rojer terribly uneasy. “You’ve a message you need me to send to the Alliance?” he went on, thinking that was why he had been sent for. The silence was almost deafening and he was too muddle-headed with sleep to be able to “read” the conflicting ones. “Or do you want another probe sent out?”
“A message and a probe, lad,” Captain Osullivan said and then signaled to one of the orderlies. “Some coffee for Mr. Lyon, please. He’ll need his wits about him.”
* * *
When Rojer settled in the couch on the bridge to ’path to Earth Prime, he heard and “felt” not so much animosity as cynicism and dislike: not outright hatred but definitely contempt.
What he did hear almost spoken aloud, the thought was so strong, was: “How can we be sure the kid’ll send what’s written?”
The captain handed him the message. “This must be transmitted verbatim, lad.”
“Sir,” and Rojer raised his voice so that he’d be heard across the wide room, “a Prime, which I am, has the duty to send what he is given to send and forget what he is not supposed to remember. I’ve been trained in Tower Ethics since I was old enough to use telepathy for distance speaking ten years ago. And that is why I was sent to serve on the Genesee, because I can ’path accurately over distance. When you’re ready, Mr. Metrios, I’ll need every erg those engines can give me right now.”
To be sure he had made his point, he read the message in a low voice that would be audible to the captain, Commander Metrios and the comm officer so that they’d know he had sent what he was asked to send and without comment. He kept his mental tone even and bland but inadvertently he caught his breath as he felt his grandfather’s touch: clear despite the distance involved.
Th
at’s some report, Roj. You been stirring things up?
Me, sir? No, sir.
Jeff Raven had not held his important position as Earth Prime and the strongest T-1 in the Nine Star League without sensing what sometimes was not ’pathed. He altered his voice after his official acknowledgment of the communique to a less formal tone.
Giving you a bit of a rough time, huh, Roj? He was sympathetic but bracing.
Nothing I can’t handle, Granddad. I guess I’m just not used to naval ways.
There’ll be a reply to this, I’m sure, Rojer. Let’s set an arbitrary time every hour on the hour for reply. That’ll make it a tad easier on you. What is your current time?
Rojer looked up at the digital and told his grandfather the ship’s time: 0505. Then, out loud, he added, “The message has been acknowledged at 0933 Earth time, Captain, and has already been forwarded to the High Councils. Earth Prime asks me to be ready to receive a message every hour on the hour: or 0600 ship’s time.” He slipped out of the couch, making himself straighten up. “If you don’t need me now, sir, I’ll get back to my ’Dinis. If they wake and find me gone, they won’t know where to find me.”
Rather awkwardly, Captain Osullivan gave him a pat on the back. “Do that, lad. Do just that.”
* * *
The fourth time Rojer arrived on the bridge for the appointed hour, to his immense relief, he “heard” his grandfather’s alert.
“The generators, please, Commander,” he said, nodding to Metrios. He lay back and let the gestalt extend his range. He also pushed down all the negative feelings he’d been subjected to during the last four hours. Hell, he was only a kid. Why was he getting the stick? It’s not as if he could warn the Hivers. Or even wanted to. If only he’d been more awake, he would have sensed the vibes in the room and kept his mouth shut. No one here could tell what he was thinking. Were these some of the reactions his parents and grandparents had had to deal with when they were among the unTalented?
That message put the cat among the pigeons, lad, his grandfather said, chuckling. Here are their orders. Repeat mentally and vocally after me. There must be no misunderstanding. Rojer said that much aloud. To Captain Etienne Osullivan, aboard the AS Genesee in response to telepathed message received 0933 this date by Earth Prime. Reply 1300 hours precisely from Earth Prime Raven to Aurigaen Prime Lyon. Message reads: No action is to be taken against unarmed ship. No action must arouse the suspicions of the colony world that it has been penetrated. If squadron can launch additional reconnaissance units of the new type, details of the inhabited planets and moons would be of inestimable value in formulating strategy. Repeat, further reconnaissance may only be undertaken if there is no risk of disclosing Alliance presence in the system. When the reconnaissance is completed, or risk of discovery imminent, Squadron B is to retreat behind heliopause, maintaining discreet surveillance of system. Do not, repeat, do not engage enemy. This is by order of the High Councils of the Alliance. Gktmglnt and Admiral Tohl Mekturian presiding. End of signal. Earth Prime Raven sending.
Aurigaen Lyon receiving at Earth time 1300:10.90 and acknowledging.
Well done, lad.
I’ll hope they think so, Granddad.
They will. And you are entitled to call yourself Prime, you know, since you’re doing the work of one. That was delivered in a firm admonitory tone which made Rojer wriggle a little in pride. Grandfather would not have said something like that if he didn’t mean it. Then his voice took on its “official” tone. A message capsule has also been dispatched. That’s what took so long, getting it written down. Naval types! Get ready to catch it. Confirmation of the message, signed, sealed and pick it up for delivery . . . Now!
“A message capsule’s on its way, Commander,” Rojer said, sitting up and gesturing for Metrios to keep the generators up to peak. “It’s coming in now.” And the slim message tube dropped the last inch onto the carpeted floor by the captain’s feet. Rojer grimaced, wishing that he had managed an absolutely perfect landing. “This way, sir, you know no one’s been able to tamper with it.”
Someone, somewhere on the bridge, gave a low whistle. The security officer glared around but the culprit was not identified.
Captain Osullivan pressed his thumb to the seal of the tube and it obligingly popped its lid, the rolled sheaf extruding. The captain opened it, scanned it, and grunted. “Good transmission, lad. Every comma and dot in place.” He handed the flimsy to the comm officer. “Send a coded fax to the Arapahoe and the KTTS, for captains’ eyes only.” He was silent a moment, looking at the forward screens and the distant glow of the G-type star. None of the planets that Rojer had sent probes to were visible, just a tight pattern of winking stars of all kinds. “Mr. Lyon, have you had lunch?”
Rojer shook his head, unable to say that he’d gone to the mess room but the moment he’d been seen, the place had gone very quiet. He’d left, his ’Dinis tlocking in distress behind him.
“Then it’s high time you did eat. We need your particular Talents again and we must be extremely delicate in our investigations. Engineering, security, astrogation, exec, join us in the ready room. And Doplas, inform Captains Quacho and Prtglm that we’d like them to join us if they’d signal the time to be ’ported over after lunch.”
CHAPTER
TWELVE
OF all her relatives, only her great-grandmother Isthia proved truly understanding of what became known as Zara’s Antic. Granny Isthia had raised one beautifully arched eyebrow and said “You do teach them that where there’s a will there’s a way! If they implement their teachings, don’t fuss.”
Even her father, who was the most understanding kind of dad you could want, had replied, “What if she’d been killed?”
“She’s half Denebian. We’re born survivors!” was Isthia’s imperious reply to that.
Zara had actually put a lot of time and thought into how to achieve her end. The will to the way was also well researched. Eventually her mother gave her credit for that. What really incensed Grandmother Raven had been Zara’s shameless and often unethical use of her Talent. The redeeming part of that was that Zara had not abused or misused anyone or more than bent a few laws.
For days after Rojer left—and the nights in which Zara had had horrible nightmares all involving him in lethal situations—Zara had alternated queen watching with her planning. Ever since hatching, the queen had been stationary. You couldn’t call the use of one palp to draw food to her mouth “activity” though she did that from time to time. Roddie had deftly replaced foods by the one palp used and put more enticing offerings near the other forward limb. She stayed where she was, her hind end in the mound of mixed shavings and eggs.
A theory was now circulating that this species of orthopterus might require a male fertilization of the eggs after laying, not before. There was endless discussion on the merits of every theory put forth: sometimes rather loud and furious debates in which speakers lost their temper with colleagues in other camps.
These discussions did more to make Zara’s mind up than deter her from her wild scheme for it became painfully obvious that no one KNEW what to do for the queen. Something would have to be DONE soon or Zara was afraid she’d be lost. She was sure she would know if she could only get close enough to “sense” the need. Roddie was doing as well as a male could be expected to do. But the Hive queen was female. It had been females like her great-grandmother Isthia and her great-aunts, Besseva and Rakella, who had “heard” the Hive response to the arbitrary return of the one scout to survive the Rowan-Raven Repulsion above Deneb. And that act had brought the great ship to Deneb to be vanquished in Deneb’s hot sun. That was, of course, before the Mrdini had made contact with Humans: in fact it was why ’Dinis had made contact with Humans. But that didn’t exactly exonerate either from current actions in Zara’s estimation.
The only female on the Observation Module was the non-empathic Captain Waygella. Why under the suns hadn’t either her grandfather or grandmother thought of putting a Talent
ed empath on board that Module?
They hadn’t. She had to supply the need.
That took timing as well as planning for although there was a lot of FT&T traffic out of Aurigae, not as much as served her purpose went to either Earth or even Callisto. That’s where she had to be unethical . . . listening in to ’pathed messages to keep informed of what shipments might be made to either Earth or Callisto. She’d secreted in her own room a breathing unit in case she was obliged to go by carrier drone, and a comfortable padded blanket. She’d her traveling clothes ready and a small sac of necessities, including travel food for they used such bars on longer hunting and camping trips. Her ’Dinis, Pol and Diz, were in hibernation which solved that problem. Not that she couldn’t keep things from them but it would be unfair of her to seem to desert them for no reason she could explain beforehand.
Time got shorter. The queen seemed enfeebled; nothing could tempt her to eat more than a few mouthfuls and the intervals between these were increasing.
Zara overheard her parents talking about Rojer on board the Genesee. Until he’d managed to get some new sort of probe around the inhabited planet of the Hive colony, he’d had some sort of problem on board. Served him right, she thought disloyally, when he was actively participating in the destruction of a species. And people said the Hivers were predatory, merciless, and ruthless. She was even pleased to hear—and certainly did not form part of the majority—that this colony world was swarming with all kinds of Hive life, with well developed defenses, and hundreds of satellites and large ships orbiting. Evidence suggested that the Hivers were even readying for more exploratory voyages. That was, of course, what they did, according to the ’Dini. When a world became too populated, that meant too many queens; a ship was provisioned with excess queens and sent forth to find its own world.
Would that procedure alter when the unarmed homeworld Hive ship arrived to tell the colony of the nova, and the destruction of their original system? Many thought it would cause chaos in every one of the Hive worlds. Maybe even, the incurable optimists suggested, curtail their explorations while they established a new homeworld. Others were certain that it wouldn’t even give the living Hivers a moment’s pause.
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